The God of the Harvest; Kaine – Chapter One

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The sun is particularly bright, the sky a brilliant blue, and the clouds just seemed a little more fluffier than normal as the young boy observes upon his cherry red metallic Schwinn Stingray five-speed bike as he sails in the May breeze. The boy is smiling uncontrollably armed with his Alienware Vindicator Backpack that has his Alienware’ s top of the line laptop within that is also brand new. Today it is his birthday as he is heading to his school of Deadwood Elementary. His light brown shoulder-length hair is flowing in the breeze as he continues peddling down Charles Street just passing the Lead-Deadwood Regional Hospital and Clinic heading wonderfully to Sherman Street.

The young lad looks up on the small mountain to his right where he can see the stark fortress-looking sanitarium. The Whispering Pines where long ago the Mt. Moriah Cemetery once stood nearly a century ago. The young boy glanced up at the facility as his smile left him thinking of the legends, myths, and heresy about the dreadful place where the United States puts its most diabolical of the criminally insane, the very worst of society in which will rot and die living in the belly of the beast. Some of these insane people will never see the light of day again. As he looks up at the high stone walls and razor wire, the young lad can clearly see the green-tinted guard towers. Those in the belly several floors below the emerald yard and concrete walkways is the condemned in which there is no escape from in the spite of the long history of this facility. Historical facts did mention of one inmate who did make it to the top and if this insane man didn’t waste time in dropping on by to see the Warden and Chief Psychiatrist, well, some say that Brandon “The Worm” Reed would have did the impossible – escape. Reed instead had to take valuable time to carve and dismember the good Warden in his office. Reed’s morbid crime would immediately be uncovered and the general alarm was sent off and as for Reed, he was literally chopped down in a blizzard of gunfire.

The boy recalls in his mind of when it was a class project to research and share with the other students findings before the class. The young boy’s topic was on the violent broken mind of none other than Brandon “The Worm” Reed. Evidently, as he suspected, most of the class would share about Scott Solomon Dean who was a demonic-driven mass murderer that obtained a world-record recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records. Scott Solomon was one of a kind as was with Brandon “The Worm” Reed and some others just lurking out of the limelight centered on the world record holder.

As for the young lad’s presentation giving out such accurate and vivid description of all the things leading up the Reed’s arrest and his talents of being an escape artist breaking out of every federal penitentiary and asylum before his re-capture. Reed made a crimson wake through New Mexico, Arkansas, Missouri, Nebraska, and Colorado. As the young lad began sharing these exploits in his graphic detail that caused the teacher to blush and rise up stopping the young man from continuing to share before his classmates in the very front of the classroom. Even in the spite of the fact he wasn’t allowed to continue reading from his well-prepared report laced with facts, sources, and pictures of some of Reed’s victims, the lad did receive an “A+” for his troubles.  

The boy  now turns his attention back to peddling and staying out of the way of traffic and the pedestrians. Today is not only just his twelfth birthday, moreover, it his is last day of his sixth-grade. Next year, the young lad will be in Middle School up in Lead just four miles away, and too far to ride his new bicycle that his mother bought.  His favorite uncle, his only uncle in fact bought him the new laptop with everything this youngster needs.

The child on his bike then glides into the Packhorse Convenient Store across the street from the Deadwood Police Station on Sherman Street. He carefully parks his bike on its kickstand and not worrying about someone stealing it, though, he does indeed carry a lock wrapped under the cream-metallic banana seat where the adjustable chrome seating post. He boldly walks in and sees an older grey haired woman behind the cash register  talking to one of the local men about her age. The boy then turns his attention to the coolers directly in front of him. He walks up hoping that his favorite energy drink is still on sale, the two-for-one special on Amplified in the 26 ounce cans. To his relief, the sale is still on that raises another smile on his freckled face as his green emerald eyes shine capturing the green glow of the bright L.E.D lights within the cooler. He goes to open the cooler and there in his reflection of the polished glass he catches someone or something standing behind him.

The child turns quickly as his high-top basketball shoes squeak on the clean floor. He gasps as he holds his breath while his right hand is firmly gripping the cooler door. He sees in an instant that there is no one there behind him, lurking over him. He sees the old grey haired cashier still speaking to the man in his bib overhauls. Seeing this and the fact no one is behind him, he turns once more to open the cooler door when a sharp pain struck him in through his forehead like a bullet that causes him to let go of the cooler door and grab his forehead with both hands and closing his eyes. The pain is intense and he almost calls for help as he is thinking that he could be dying. His young heart is now beating so hard that it seems that in any moment it will explode out of his chest.

“Scotty MacLeod, I know of your kind by the very blood coursing through your veins…” The voice is inside of his head as his sudden headache begins to subside where he felt that any moment he would lose his balance and collapse on the floor. The voice within him was more than just words, young Scotty could feel these words resonate throughout his body, and the resonation is bitterly cold.

“I know you can hear me young Scotty…” The voice from within struck again. The voice, foreign in a dialect the child could not understand. The voice sounded old or ancient Scotty thought in a terrified silence. The young lad without saying a word out loud opened the cooler and got his two large cans of Amplified.

“Brave child you are…” The voice within Scotty’s mind spoke again with a sinister and very troubling laugh mocking the young boy as he walked up in a hurry to the counter fetching his money balled up in his pocket.

“Hello Scotty and happy birthday to you.” The cashier smiled down at him. On her sagging breast was her name tag that simply read, “Coleen.”

Scotty did not smile, he is sweating now with a troubled and confused look upon his face. Still, he knew his manners, “Thank you Coleen. Thank you a lot.” He tried to smile but found it impossible at the moment.

Scotty removed his pack quickly and loaded the two cans safely inside. “Scotty, that is a very beautiful bike.” Coleen smiled looking through the large glass widows of the store.

“My mother got it for me for my birthday, and thank you again.” He smiled this time at her.

“Today is your last day at school too?”

“Yes mam, that it is.” Scotty replied as she gave him his change and his receipt before heading out to get on his bike to peddle as fast as he could away from the little store. He could feel the icy breath upon him by what seems to be for everyone else, totally invisible.

Scotty rationalizes as he carefully waits for the crosswalk light to change allowing him to safely cross over into Pine Street. He has a moment to take in what he heard within him. He comes to the conclusion that it is all his own excitement catching up to him in this very odd way or it may be some sort of ghost. After all, Deadwood is choked full of ghosts and ghost stories from its violent ancient history from back in the days of Calamity Jane and the likes of Wild Bill Hickok.

Scotty heard rumors and stories about the ancient graveyard of Mt. Moriah Cemetery where these two along with a good many other sorts and characters were laid to rest. Then of course, the history of how the Whispering Pines Sanitarium was built upon the graveyard. The official story was when it was constructed in the latter part of the twenty-first century, the historical old Mt. Moriah Cemetery was moved at relocated with all the graves re-interned at the new site to include all of the gravestones. However, the actual graves and those within them were not removed or relocated to the new spot. Scotty believed in this legend that the complex, the Whispering Pines Sanitarium is built upon the dead still there, and their troubled ghosts haunt the place.

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As scotty rode passed the Lawrence County Capital building along the wide sidewalk, he began focusing his attention to all of the festivities of his last and final day at Deadwood Elementary. Already he can see the policemen and women at the crosswalk from Pine Street over Main Street. He had to get off of his bike and walk across the crosswalk under the supervision of the police officers. To his right looking down on Main Street, in the late twentieth Century the city had a multitude of chintzy gambling machines, prostitution that survived the nineteenth century, and hotels to swindle all the people from their money. These places did not exist long after the “Crash of 2008” in which was, as he understood, the fall of the American Empire, and before the invasion of the Chinese that took well over half of the original United States. This was all before young Scotty’s time, in fact, a good full century before him and his mother.

“Hello Scotty, nice bike, buddy.” Scotty looked to the left and it is officer Bob. Officer Bob is a former weekly visitor of his mothers. Scotty didn’t like him and when officer Bob spoke to him, his words were like a whip across the youngsters back.

Fuck you, you goddamned dickweed…Young Scotty thought to himself as he said aloud, “Thank you, Officer Bob.” Scotty couldn’t get across fast enough.

The officer concluded, “Happy birthday too, Scotty. Tell your mother I said ‘hello.’

Motherfucker, suck my dick, bitch… This thought brought a smile on the youngsters face.

“Such a temper and the language. ‘dickweed’ I do not know of that word. What is of its origin?” The icy gravel voice began to laugh causing Scotty’s hearing to deaden and almost causing the child to cover his own ears.

“Oh, I am sorry about that. I can see into your mind quite deeply and can feel your emotions. You do hate this, this, this policeman. It has been a while, a long while since I have been back here to earth I’m afraid.” The voice grew quieter as Scotty’s eyes began to well up.

“I will take care of this Officer Bob for you. You shall not have to deal with him anymore. You may want to turn and look upon him on last time before he is wiped off the face of this world.” The voice warned.

Scotty didn’t want to turn. Scotty doesn’t want something bad happen to the police officer in the spite of things and before having a chance to say anything through his mind to this entity, a myriad of pictures began crossing the horizons of his mind. Scotty stopped as his eyes began to literally show a dim reflection of what he is seeing as these things began to be vividly clear.

Scotty paused standing on the sidewalk though his mind is somewhere else and as the young lad can see from these strong pictures in his mind is not his own but those of this creature. Scotty could see a strange world filled with hideous impossible to describe beasts and evils beyond his own imagination. Terrorized, Scotty could see what looks like a brilliant arching bright orb with a long tail leave this alien world’s upper green hazing atmosphere. In his mind, he could see in this orb that passes him by as if Scotty is floating in space. He covers his face as he could see an evil-looking creature that does not look like anything human but more like some sort of reptilian type that he has never seen before. Then, without warning Scotty’s mind is above the earth as he could see what looks like a comet swing by him as he could feel the blinding heat and light.

Scotty closed his eyes standing there holding his bike though thousands of miles above the earth. He is about to find out also in another time long forgotten.

In his mind’s eye he could see the comet that is actually the ship of this terrible creature enter the earth’s atmosphere. Again, the scene violently changed to where Scotty is standing firmly on the ground and off to the distance in the sky, the young child could see the comet strike down beyond the village before him. Scotty could not see passed the high wall made of some sort of clay. Then as he noticed the wall and men armed with spears and shields were looking at the brilliant comet as the shockwave like that of a small atomic bomb followed by a fireball rising up to the sky as brilliant as the sun. Though Scotty some distance away from the wall was knocked down to the ground causing him to lose his breath and the pain coming from this. Even in his physical body standing there, his stomach spasms is keeping him from breathing.

“Breath young Scotty…” The voice cut across like thunder in this vision of him lying on the sandy ground.

It took Scotty a few moments to regain his breath and he arose up from his back laying there facing the wall. He noticed that the men, these soldiers or guards missing from their post only moments ago. Scotty can see that the blast must of knocked them down off the wall but he could not see them in the sand. The wall, for Scotty to guess, about forty-feet high. Scotty could not hear enough yet due to the blast though returning enough to clearly hear the voice and some panic within the village.

“Where am I?” Scotty asked in his mind.

“The land called, Sumer, and the time is known to you earthlings as somewhere around the fifth millennium BCE. The village before you is now long gone and forgotten. This place is, or for that matter, was the first settlement that I visited as you can see. I found the Engineers’ work on creating these humans from their own DNA and that of the great apes, the Neanderthals and you may or may not know…”

Scotty turned in his vision to face the voice seemingly behind him expecting to see the specter he glimpsed at the Packhorse. Naturally, there is no one standing behind him. He turns around to face the village.

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“This area, this land of Sumer is known later by the Greeks as ‘Mesopotamia.’ A name simply meaning the lands between the Tigress and Euphrates – The golden crescent of fertile land. Egypt, Rome, Greece, and some other cultures do not exist yet. You can say, most of Europe during this time is thawing out as the people there are basically still swinging from tree to tree…” The entity laughed briefly about his evaluation of the Europeans.

“Is this the first place for us humans?” The child asked as he looked up at the fireball fading.

“From Sumer? No, the Sumerians’ ancestors came from the north from the regions of south eastern Turkey. This place I would later come to visit and feed called, “Göbekli Tepe” created around the tenth millennium BCE as your kind knows of time. Though, I was not there when it and those sites around it – Some yet to be discovered by the way, is just a bleak foothold of the beginnings of civilization as you know of it…” The voice sighed heavily and spoke once more.

“Now that is enough, more than enough for now. It is time for you to embrace your learning…”

The voice faded away as Scotty’s mind swimming in these powerful visions back safely to the present. Scotty looked around as his eyes cleared and noticed that the time he was away trapped in these visions, only a couple of minutes actually passed. Realizing the fact that he was gone far longer to witness these things, these things that the creature showed of himself and the world at the time he entered it. Scotty rationalizes, This shit cannot be from my own imagination and of my own subconscious. I have never heard of these places and those things I have just seen. I cannot be going crazy as fuck, can I?

While Scotty walked and contemplated these things shaking like a leaf, Scotty is joined by his friends as they all wished him a happy birthday and salutations. They marveled over his bike as he locked it up at the bike rack and testing the lock. Scotty thanked these various classmates of his. Scotty is not only popular amongst his fellow classmates, nevertheless, he is the smartest kid in school, and his S.A.T. scores proves it. His teachers to include Scotty’s family consisting of his mother, her brother in which is Scotty’s uncle, and his grandmother. Scotty never knew of his father first-hand. His mother tried to paint a respectable picture of his father to include a name, occupation, and his death. However, the stories of his father is that of a work of fiction made up by his mother. Scotty’s grandmother, a bitter woman has a story in sharp contrast of his father and the fact that, “The deadbeat died in a shoot-out over a heroin deal that went south. Yeah, only after he knocked your mother up first…” His grandmother’s words are seared into his brain forever. As for his uncle, his uncle painted more of a balanced picture between the two stories. “Yeah, your father, the sperm-donor and not much more did in fact die in a drug deal like grandma says. I don’t know really anything about him other than the fact that for whatever reason, you’re mother got hooked up with him. You know your mom had a drug problem that almost cost her, her own life, right?” His uncle would go on to say, “I guess, your mother owed him, your dad, some money, a drug debt, and she used her body to pay it off. She did that a lot so I have heard. That is how you have become. I am sorry about this, Scotty. I beleive you are old enough to hear the truth…” Scotty was about nine-years old when his uncle sat down on the wooden steps of his deck at the trailer park in Puma.

Scotty’s mother, well, Scotty knew that she recovered from being a junkie and all those things that can be associated with it, to include those stories that grandma brings up unsolicited every so often. Scotty only knows that his mother loves him deeply and takes good care of him. In fact, she is a single parent holds down two part-time jobs to help make ends meet. The both of them live in the same trailer park as his uncle. His uncle is close by, close enough to keep a good eye on Scotty and his mother both.

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Everyone to include his grandma is hoping for the best for young Scotty. They hope that he will be the first to go to college and as for Scotty, he is smart enough, in fact, a mental attitude that is several years a head of him. He already knows that the only way we could go into college is on some kind of scholarship. Scotty finds himself worrying over these sorts of things when most kids do not or should not. Still, he frets.

The bell rings outside in the playground and he walks into the building. As he is doing so, he is alone when that sinister voice comes back within him.

“Young Scotty, I can read your thoughts. You’re mother’s a whore according to your grandmother. Your grandmother is the one that was a whore all along. An old whore turning tricks.” Just then Scotty saw mental images of his grandmother performing vivid sexual acts and getting paid for it.

Scotty rubbed his eyes and whispered, “Get out of my head, devil.”

“Devil? I have been called many things, as to this ‘devil’ is one I have not heard. What is the meaning of that word young Scotty – Do tell?”

“You’re evil” Scotty said aloud as a playground monitor was walking up behind him.

“Scotty, who are you calling evil?” The tall old woman asked. It is none other than the notorious playground gestapo, Miss Slaughter who is rumored to be one of the last vestiges from the Third Reich. Just caught in her shadow would put a sudden freeze upon your shoulders as the small hairs on the back of your neck would raise. Of course, by then, it was too late. 

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud, I guess.” Scotty then turned back facing the entrance of the school. This is all he needed was drawing attention from Miss Slaughter and her Nazi Interrogation processes rumored by some troublemakers on the school grounds. It is also rumored that Miss Slaughter is formerly retired from the Whispering Pines Sanitarium that loomed over the entire town. Nevertheless, a daunting scene only amplified by the presence of Miss Slaughter who stood well over six-foot tall and in her late sixties.

“Scotty, what is wrong? Are you afraid to tell Miss Slaughter that you have me inside your head?” Scotty’s young body began to drop in temperature. The young lad could see his own breath inside the hallway of his warm school.

“Miss Slaughter, a German descendant like so many among this region. Alas, this is why I am here…” The voice faded.

“Happy birthday, Scotty.” Miss Slaughter said walking in behind him into the school building.

You’re here for Miss Slaughter?” Scotty oddly felt somewhat relieved.

“No. However back in her day she had quite the passion of seducing young men in the above-ground facility of that Sanitarium where she worked as a nurse while supplementing her income by performing sexual acts upon those crazy young men…”

The voice opened up Scotty’s mind enough to graciously show him a few vivid moving images of Miss Slaughter in what seemed a couple of decades ago. The vision of her performing fellatio to a couple of patients being orally gratified. The evil voice then presented as vivid as before with additional motion images of Miss Slaughter in the Staff Men’s Room performing various gratuitous acts of various sexual escapades.

“Almost makes you want to seek employment up at the Pines, doesn’t it?” The voice now saturated with sarcasm.

I don’t need to see this bullshit and you’re fucking making it up!” Scotty defiantly tortes.

“Not at all, these images are directly coming from her mind. Yes, I can see all your thoughts no matter who you are. As for the former whore, Miss Slaughter, she does not know I am in her head at all…”

Scotty could not even turn back to face Miss Slaughter after seeing nothing less than these highly provocative and compromising sexual vexatious acts now forever seared into young Scotty’s mind. This ranks right up there on the top of Scotty’s list of, “Things I truly Do Not Need To Know.”

Scotty slightly turns his head over his right shoulder, “Thank you, Miss Slaughter.”

You’re evil and perverted…”

“Scotty, you’re right about me being evil and if the word ‘devil’ means this, then, I guess, I am the ‘devil’ as you say. Though, I do feel especially evil right now – “ The voice within Scotty was interrupted abruptly by his own inner voice.

You’re not real. You’re only a voice inside of me. You are some twisted hallucination I am having. It could be the breakfast I had, bad eggs, or bad bacon, or a whole host of things.” Scotty warned in his thoughts to this source of this voice.

Scotty forced to usurp control of his own thoughts to retaliate to the voice so that Miss Slaughter would not hear and think the young boy is going completely out of his mind.

“Oh, your mind is now stronger. This is good though, it shall not prevail over my control, dear Scotty. If it makes you feel any better into fooling yourself that I am not real and only a figment of your imagination then by all means, keep telling yourself that…” The laughter came back mocking the troubled child.

“Now to prove that I am real and you will see my face once again, and oh yes, I was standing behind you by the way in the store though no one else caught a glimpse of me other than you. This fact alone made you worthy in my eyes to do my bidding…” The color began running out of Scotty as if an avalanche of insurmountable dread came down upon his weaken state.

“I am going to show you how real I am. I am going to blow up the Packhorse and well, in the matter of my evilness today, the entire block, and perhaps more.” The dread is literally beginning to crush the young boy making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

Scotty turns around sharply and notices that Miss Slaughter has entered the faculty break room as the door slowly closes behind her.

No, don’t do it! Don’t kill or blow up anyone! Fuck it man, I’ believe you’re real then. Just don’t do it!” Scotty exasperated. Yet, there is no answer from this foreign voice.

For Scotty, it seems like time is dragging on as he walks into his class where the first subject, his favorite, mathematics will begin after home room. Needless to say, Scotty feels like the entire world is on his shoulders as his body is ridden with anxiety. His stress peaks as he continues to become even more peeked. His teacher, Miss Pinkie just got out of college, young, vibrant blonde that turned heads, and also been seen with the science teacher, Dr. Jay Hamilton. Besides, nothing goes unnoticed in this town since people don’t know how to mind their own business. Deadwood is no exception of the small town mentality.

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Again for Scotty, time seemed to drag on as he entered the classroom only to find out he still had a few seconds left before the tardy bell rang. He quickly took his seat after carefully sitting his Alienware Backpack down next to his chair as all the students turned to face him. In unison, all cheerfully shouted, “Happy Birthday, Scotty!”

Scotty embarrassed as his face reddened and pretended to give an earnest smile under the turbulent sea of anxiety, “Thanks everyone.” He returned making eye contact with only a couple of his fellow students.

“Good you made it in here. Now since you are on the other side of the building, this shouldn’t effect you too much…” The voice within warned.

Please, you don’t have to do this. Please no…” Scotty tries to reason with the sinister voice. There is no answer as Miss Pinkie bends over to pick up the scripto marker for the large whiteboard. Her heart-shaped sculptured ass bled through ever so slightly under her sheer lime-green slacks.

Damn…” Scotty thought to himself.

“Damn indeed…” The voice within the young boy concurred.

“Oh, there is one in your class called, “Donna?” The sinister voice is especially cold and calculating.

Why, why do you want to know that?”  Scotty could feel the presences of this creature leave him ever so slightly as if it were like an invisible fog over the back of the classroom drifting in the slightest as it sought out the young brunette twelve-year-old girl in a single pony tail. Scotty could not look at her, he felt in doing so would give her away to the lingering wisp of fog that outstretched like a wicked hand as its own index finger gently tapped the top of her head. Scotty could see it is all too late. The creature in this dreadful and egregious act found her out.

Not to worry young Scotty. I can find those that belong to me on my own without any assistance of your mind. Though, I do find your interesting. Now forgive me while I embrace her mind…”

Terrified as his eyes reflected the horror began to engulf him as he could see Donna’s steel blue eyes roll up to the top of her head as her body stiffened. More of this evil energy is leaving Scotty as his eyes welled up for the sake of Donna which he has known since his first year of school. To his continued horror, the being mostly with Donna now making her rise up in from her desk and walk right out of the classroom in its control without the teacher or the other students even noticing as if she is just as invisible as the one controlling her.

God, leave her alone!” Scotty attempts to plead again.

“God is right. Now you shall mind your own and this little one belongs to me. Her soul, spirit, and her body belongs to me, not you, not anyone or anything else. Now, enjoy the show as it begins to unfold…” The voice fades away from Scotty’s mind as Donna under the wicked spell walks down the hallway turning the corner on her left. The mental contact is gone, Scotty cannot see any longer in his mind’s eye as to what will happen to Donna’s own fate.

Scotty’s young heart is about to explode as he bursts out aloud freezing the teacher dead in her tracks, “Miss Pinkie something very bad is about to happen to Donna!” Scotty rises up suddenly.

Shocked in his outburst as the students all turn to look as oddly at him as the teacher is right now. “Scotty, whatever you mean?” she says sternly.

“Something bad is controlling her. It means to do her harm!” He turns to point at her vacant desk, “You see, she’s fucking gone!” he blurts out as the oxygen leaves the room through the monumental chorus of gasps fills the gaping stunning mouths of everyone to include his teacher in the classroom.

“Scotty Andrew MacLeod!” The teacher exasperated as some of the students began to giggle at his outburst.

“She just left and none of you seen her go!” Scotty yelps as the teacher puts both her hands firmly on her hips.

“No one has seen Donna because she did not come in this morning. Her parents called in and said she is ill!” She allowed young Scotty to attempt to process this new information in.

“I saw what I saw, and I know that something god-awful is going to happen to her!”

“Okay, that is more than enough out of you young man. To the Principal’s Office you go now and take your stuff. Shame on you!” Scotty is beyond confused. He does as he is told as his mind and that of the reality around him just went completely sideways as he leaves under a cloud of laughter.

For Scotty, this is not the first time he has visited Donald Perry, the Principal of this school. With any luck since this is the last day, it will be the last time he shall see Principal Perry – So he hopes.

He begins his long walk down the hall in the opposite direction as Donna went. “Donna was here, she was, and you fucking got her you evil son of a bitch!” Like before, only a deadening silence.

“Could it be just my mind? Could I be hallucinating this whole thing? Could this be nothing more than a nightmare and I am still asleep at home? Goddamnit, I need to wake the fuck up!” He closes his eyes tightly and stops only to give a moment that he hopes all this is just a dream.

He slowly opens his eyes and he sees that he is still standing in the hallway free of windows. His heavy sigh comes forth as he begins to continue the long dreadful walk to the Principal’s Office.

As he walks just up to the door on his right labeled in red letters is, “Faculty Breakroom” as he stops to listen to the cackling on the other side. He hears the school janitor a man known as Raul Gonzalez who is in his last year of retiring below out, “Then I caught the little son of a bitch lifting a pack of cigarettes right from his teacher’s purse before she got back into her classroom!” Those inside the breakroom all began to laugh aloud. Scotty remembers this story being told, he remembers the event that happened two years ago. Scotty remembers the kid in question, a kid deaf in both ears that talked funny because of this fact by the name of Walter Love.

Walter Love’s picture is in the School’s Dictionary right next to the name and definition of, “Rebel.” There is none that even comes close to the legendary antics of Walter Love. Since the First-Grade, Walter was then the Plight Upon All Humanity according to the school’s faculty. The memory of Walter Love and some of his antics came to mind causing Scotty to quickly flash a genuine smile. Walter Love is nothing less than a god of deviant mayhem and malevolent rebellion that rivals the Fall of Satan.

As to Walter Love, he eventually gotten worse and his mother planned to have him committed to some child-like asylum in Rapid City. Unfortunately, Walter had found out about his mother’s plans and torched the entire trailer park in Puma killing some fifty people before he publicly set himself on fire only after splashing several quarts of gasoline on his body. Rumors were all abound in saying that eyewitnesses saw and heard him also claim that someone or something was in his head telling him what to do to get everyone back in this hideous act of revenge. Then Walter Love under a cloud of screams, pandemonium, and the sirens approaching then turned the lighter on himself. The home-made video catching his final acts went viral on the net. To this very day if anyone wanted to view this horrible video of a troubled youngster can see it. As for the young lad, his smile vanished quickly in his recall of that terrible event.

Scotty then began to step away from the breakroom door and continue pressing on as the florescent lighting above him began to flash as the sudden shockwave rocked the school building sending Scotty to the floor causing him to strike his head upon the unforgiving tile floor. Outside of the school is a fireball that some would later claim could be seen as far as Meade County and the hamlet of Saint Onge. Those in Spearfish would also lay claim of seeing this huge fireball high up into the air. Some initially thought it was a nuclear weapon of sorts. In the investigation that would start within a couple of days by Homeland Security would conclude that the massive explosion is not a nuclear weapon that killed nearly five-hundred people vaporized instantly and about another seventy-four that would succumb to various wounds from the devastation’s aftermath.

One thing is for certain according to the official press release is that the explosion was not a nuclear weapon detonated by the Chinese who conquered half of the original western and central region of the former United States or of some violent act of an American Extremist Jihadist. The blast  was so intense that it broke most every window in the Deadwood area that wasn’t destroyed directly from the blast was completely knocked out. People up above at the Whispering Pines reported the blast rocked the facility but no one was hurt.

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Homeland Security would bring more assets into the epicenter of the blast to determine what kind of explosive was used, who manufactured it, and how it got here in the first place. They would find out quickly that all investigative means and technology would show no evidence of residue of any kind to include any foreign debris even from some sort of kinetic device made of some exotic metal. Unexplained, unresolved, and what very little that Homeland knew, they were not sharing to the public. This fueled even more speculation by the locals’ tongue-waggling.

Meanwhile, Scotty is in the Deadwood – Lead Regional Hospital fighting for his life in ICU. As the powerful explosion engulfed the school, the roof above him collapsed. It would take the First Responders and volunteers from the region some two additional days after being cleared by Homeland to rescue and or recover anyone that may yet to be alive. Scotty was found two days later thanks to a German Sheppard trained by FEMA that found the little boy yet alive. The dog and its fellow worker would offer a glimmer of new hope that some others, children, and loved ones might be alive as well.

As Scotty’s uncle and his mother both wept in bitter tears hoping against all hope holding on to little Scotty lying motionless in his bed under what doctors are calling a “Grave Condition” and lowly commenting that young Scotty is not expected to make it from his injuries and being exposed the the elements.

Along with Scotty from the Deadwood Elementary School, most of the bodies recovered was his former teacher, Miss Pinkie, his entire classmates, and all those with the exception of Miss Slaughter in the Faculty Breakroom were among the dead. As for those surviving is indeed Miss Slaughter also in ICU but in “Critical Condition” as well as Dr. Jay Hamilton, and several others who are fellow students. There were other buildings along Upper Main Street where FEMA found people clinging onto  life by a most frail thread.

The blast left a forty-foot crater deep into the ground where once the Packhorse stood. The crater is sixty-five feet in diameter as some would speculate that this may have been caused by a meteor or some other space natural-like event. Of course, FEMA, and Homeland denied any of this along with other rumors. One thing is also for certain amongst those on the fringes of society speculate that this explosion may have been the cause of something that went off the rails with some sort of top-secret government experiment or an alien-reversed-engineered weapons malfunction. This is the most popular conspiracy theory on the subject.

As time would continue, the speculations, the stories, the secretive actions and the withholding of developing information of Homeland Security only bolstered the minds of the conspiracy theorists nation-wide and causing doubt even among those still clinging on faith that the United States Government doesn’t lie to its public.

While Scotty MacLeod’s body was on the cusp of this life and the life waiting for him on the other side, his mind nearly dead contains a small ember deep within. This burning ember is by all means, is indeed keeping him lingering in this world. In this ember is nothing less than his lifeforce – energy that is gathered and prepared to leave his body behind.

To Be Continued…

Please leave a comment of your thoughts of this story so far. Any input is appreciated.

DarcWorX is a small independant business and donations are very grateful. These donations is what keeps this site possible.


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Lycanthrope; The Angola Man

Another great short story from the up and coming novel, “The Werewolves of Deadwood.”
By Douglas S. Taylor

Art and graphics created by Douglas S. Taylor, 2017. Copyright Protected 2017.

Prelude: Another short story giving voice to the werewolf community and a note from the author, Douglas S. Taylor.

First off, thanks for dropping in on my most favorite part of the year and as for me, the best season of them all where nature sheds its dead any dying with the scent of burning leaves in the air. This blog is built, designed, and rocked by the dark creative powers of my tormented muses forged through my soul, heart, and mind.

Having a real go at it with the condemned creative spirits of my ancestors that are kicking up in a leaf-lifting small and chilling turbulence clearing a path before me as I stroll deeper in the core of my mind. Things have been hitting me really hard with life in general like I am on another plane of existence. Not that this is a bad thing, I am just more acute – my mind and soul as I have decided to close out the world around me and crank out my passion. If you came here to read this telling of the history of how “The Werewolves of Deadwood” came to be or in how the Lycanthrope has been with us through time in general then buckle up and enjoy this ride with me. This is going to be intense, four-dimensional, and deep. If you are a fan of the Werewolf in general and or are into “The Werewolves of Deadwood” in which I have a couple of short stories out here right now if you had not the chance to catch, “Tales From Under the Concrete, Volume I, Volume II, and with Volume III. It’s all on Amazon available Internationally. The links above are the links for Amazon’s American Site but you can pick them up anywhere in the world.

Okay, I had to plug in those little goodies…

I wrote about how “The Werewolves of Deadwood” came to be already in a much earlier post. In case you have not read, “The Sheriff” and “Grimstalker” then you’re in for a mind-blowing experience.

If you do indeed are in love with dark adult horror that is written in my mindset intended for an audience that appreciates the “Darc.” Then I am your man. I have to make this statement because there seems to be a few people that think this blog is about pleasantries, clean language, and lifeless character dialogs or think if I wrote a character that walks off the pages and is in your face as a reflection of me in some way, well, that’s really fucked up about you and it’s really none of my business anyways.

Right, now let’s move on. I think I peppered those who may be new or those who expects happy endings then you might want to stick with Harry Potter and Disney. For everyone else, you came to feed your dark souls to some kind of power, and “Jonesing” for a feast then, this is the right place.

evils

Man, enough about me and the ambience of this “darc” little world of the Blogosphere. As always, subscriptions are free and all’s you have to do is just sign up at the subscription box. WordPress will handle all that for you from then on. Personally, I have nothing to do with that, and last time I checked, WordPress doesn’t spam.

Let’s now get deep and find out how the Lycanthrope became what they were throughout  history of mankind.

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Historical Introduction to the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy: The first archeological digs to uncover the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy was discovered in 1904 some fifteen kilometers northeast of Calandula at the Kalandula Falls on the shores of the Lucala River. This site would be proven as one of the oldest sites with carbon-dating nearly some ninety years after the initial find. Angola’s history is anything but kind to its native people. Moreover, much later as the years of the Portuguese conquest and the next few centuries of brutality, there was something deep in the jungles that only the white Europeans caught the faintest whispers about what would be called, “The Angola Man.” According to this darkly legend this myth, this story was thought out in the view of the Portuguese as a fable to keep the white Europeans from coming further inland. The Portuguese slave-traders, the trading posts and scant settlements began to keep an account of this legend as only a few, those native to the land captured claimed that this man, this creature had the ability to change into some sort of hideous monster with a sinister taste for human flesh. These accounts, hand-written by a Jesuit Priest near present day Calandula were sent by dispatch back to the Vatican and to Lisbon. The Vatican sent forth several additional priests as the information from the Portuguese priest.

The Vatican and for that matter, anyone else, would only find the rough frontier mission destroyed and as for the priest, no one had any idea. It would be a long journey, and painful one at that for the priests who attempted to find the author of the documents. By the time of the return to the Vatican, there was only one Jesuit that survived to give his personal account. Only vague rumors spread throughout the Angola region as the Roman Catholic Authority buried all the documents and the sworn accounts that would later be revealed centuries later. As for the sole survivor, he found himself succumb to some sort of unidentifiable infliction that those who attended to his needs realized that the priest was possessed by some evil demon. The account of this sole survivor’s death and those surrounding the events were buried right along side the records, accounts, and forbidden by the church to ever speak of this again.

As for the scholars, the telling of what the Portuguese took on the myth as the “Angola Man” became nearly forgotten. There was no more whisperings or claimed first-hand sightings or victims of the attacks. Some of the remaining natives claimed that those who survived the attacks were rounded up and killed off by fire and beheadings. It would be just be mere chance that this legend of the “Angola Man” would come about. Needless to say, the position of the Vatican claimed they knew nothing about what they called as some sort of hedonistic native superstition and nothing more.

Suppression of the “Angola Man” by the Vatican seemed assured. It would be a couple of centuries later and to the chagrin of the Vatican, that science would find its own path into the rediscovery of the “Angola Man” through combined efforts and discoveries beyond the reach of the Vatican.

Archaeology and those seeking by finds and connecting various dots across Europe, the Middle East, Africa of course, and the Americas.

It would be England and those of Oxford that began unveiling the fragments of the “Angola Man” mythology while investigating the European accounts of Lycanthropy. Highly skeptical as science should be scoured what little they could initially leading those of Oxford to find if there was, at the time, any evidence, any physical evidence.  Leading the investigation into Lisbon and finding some mythical tales uncovered some very old documents kept at a small church near the Spanish boarder. These documents, old, but, compelling, England had enough to finance an expedition into Angola. There near where the remains of the old mission was uncovered only driving Lord Victor James of the Royal British Museum with the  joint effort with the German anthropologist Dr. Fredrick Schmidt near modern day Angola  in the northeastern direction passed the village of Calandula at the Kalandula Falls on very shores of the Lucala River right where the research would prove the discovery solidifying the myth.

Lord James would later be called upon a discovery of near human creatures in the ancient cave paintings matching the same cave drawings in Lascaux to the most recent discovery of those in Chauvet, France dating back as 17,000 BCE. There in France would only have the paintings and the possibilities of a sub-species of earlier man, perhaps the ancestor of that of the “Angola Man,” and shear speculation at best. Still, there would come more from various areas of the world.

Older cave drawing would later be discovered in Australia and in the United States in Utah. The cave drawings of Nabascar, ancient day village of Sumer of 19,400 BCE were thought to be the oldest until the discovery in Angola’s Kalandula Falls  Site where only decades later through science would prove that Kalandula Falls is the earliest dating back some 48,000 BCE from remains of the second expedition through intensive DNA testing categorizing the shocking revelation of the “Angola Man.” As with the advent of DNA, the carbon-dating on the fossil remains of the first finds proved that the “Angola Man” was some 240,000 years ago.

During the second expedition into Angola by England was well under way. Lord Victor James found himself once again, leading the second expedition of the “Angola Man.” Oxford, England would become the epicenter of the scientific community as far as the “Angola Man” was concerned. Unfortunately for England, Lord James, and the rest of the world would suffer World-War I. The furtherance of the “Angola Man” was to be shelved.

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After the end of WWI, Lord Victor James was asked to come and visit a very perplexing cave painting found in the state of Utah. There he could clearly see that the native American Tribe called the, Paiute Indian Tribe oldest known cave paintings, and yet, still older is the monolith carvings and cave drawings in the Moab Region of the state. Here is where a very strange monolith that Lord James believes shows what may look like the “Angola Man.” The ancestors of the Paiute Indians called, Pre-Indians, then later called, “Columbia Man.”

These drawings shown what scholars would call, “The transitioning of man to a raging wolf-like creature and then eating women and children. This was the only evidence showing a possible transitioning of a man, or in the Paiutes as a “Shape-Shifter.” It would be later in the summer of 1920 when Lord Victor James would discover along with the leading scientific American, Dr. Wally Davidson that between the “Columbian Man” and the Notah or the Ute People who settled around 12,000 years ago in this region that the Paiute People briefly, through supremacy in numbers caused the Ute People to relocate. This was also noted in the three slightly different styles of art. Dr. Wally Davidson’s task was specifically keep everything between the Ute People and the treaties set forth by the American Government.

The timeline was most important for the three teams to establish a timeline of first who where the first humans that settled into this region which began as early as 14,000 years ago by the “Columbian Man.” The “Columbian Man” were the first settlers into this region and there was more evidence through cave and monolithic carvings to show that the similarities between the different native peoples had in common other than the present day language of the various people in the region. The “Shape-Shifter” as it were, was among the Columbian Man, later around 8,000 years ago, the Paiute up to and around 2,500 years only to abandon the region. The Ute People entered and remained in the region around 1,200 ADE. The Ute People seemed to have the upper hand to fight off these cannibalistic people with the advent or introduction of the bow presumed a date some time during the early fifth century ADE when the second wave of the Ute People conquered or driven out the “Shape-Shifters.” Both cave and monolithic carvings spelled out the accuracy that would definitely be most appreciated all this evidence from Lord Victor James and the United States leading Archaeologist, Dr. Wally Davidson. Following both the physical evidence in remains and drawings from the stone in Moab shown that some time around 1540 ADE the reintroduction by the Spanish, the horse.

During 1924, unique as well as perplexing shown the old graves of various human changes of the shape-shifting through the skeletal records. Again, every known shape-shifting grave site shown signs of the use of fire as well as decapitation preformed by the Ute People that also collaborated with the timelines, the Ute People’s tellings, as well as an abundancy of physical evidence of such a creature. In the eyes of Lord Victor James, the “American Shape-Shifter” was somehow the same sort of sub-species to the Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens found in Africa before the war. Lord James believed that the “Angola Man” described as some sort of huge jackal-like creature plaguing the local Angola Tribes. Lord James in his ailing condition coupled with his aging years was sent back to his homeland where he would spend the reminder of his life rallying the “Angola Man” and the American finds in Southern Utah as one of the very same species of man.

Lord Victor James’ efforts into convincing the English Academia in the spite of all the evidence, he could not be right. Some speculate that Lord Victor James did not succumb to a natural death but silenced by his own nation’s government. The monarch of England who championed covertly into Lord James’ two expeditions into Angola and his tireless efforts in America also publically denounced Lord James’ conclusion. Officially he died of a simple heart failure during the early hours of August 20, 1926. British Academia, the Royal British Museum along with Oxford removed all information collected from the brilliant mind and his finds from Africa from the public along with volumes of his unofficial and obviously suppressed data from the eyes of the public.

It would be his progeny some 90 years after his death that blew the lid right off the suppressed data and physical evidence to include information of the assassination of Lord James and the darkly kept secret of the collusion of the royal family.  The United States also suppressed all the information, physical evidence, along with with the deaths of both teams lead by, Dr. Wally Davidson to include himself. According to local papers and the outcry of the local people that the ill-fated train robbery in which the final destination to Washington D.C. went down near Woonsocket, South Dakota. None survived the train robbery, the dynamite used to destroy any kind of evidence. The official story of so called, local eye-witnesses said the train robbery was conducted by regional Sioux tribes in February, 23 of 1928.

The official story to many was nothing but some kind of fabrication of a clandestine staged robbery by the United States Army. There was absolutely no proof outside the testimonies of the witnesses of Woonsocket that the local Sioux tribes had anything to do with the outright killings and destruction of evidence conveniently swept under the rug.

Again, like America’s counterparts in England so too the results of deception and destruction of evidence, the scientists, any anything to do with the research in the Moab region met a very mysterious end would be proven a full century later that the various conspiracy theories were proven true and the long dead eye-witnesses would be found that they perjured themselves opening up what later proved as the Woonsocket Conspiracy as well as the very least as a complacent government. It would be the research to formerly charge those working in the Pentagon, the US Congress leading up to the Calvin Coolidge Administration who would remain President of the United States until March 4, 1929.

The United States would quickly be thrown into “Back Tuesday” of October 29, 1929. So, it would seem the nation would have far better things to formerly look into the possibilities that the Coolidge Administration and the US Army’s involvements in the Woonsocket Conspiracy. The nation would have to wait nearly 100 years later for the truth and the world-wide empirical evidence of the extraction of the DNA of the “Angola Man” and new evidence gathered in Moab, Utah that the two major finds were practically identical in every way.

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The United Nations decided that the pulmonary DNA findings from America would be sent to the Brussels’ Human Genetics Medical Research Center for further studies on behest of the Russian Republic and the majority of the NATO countries. The United States Government reluctantly complied giving more suspicions.

The United States’ findings to include the DNA flew out of Washington DC. However, the material to include 224 passengers and crew was never seen again only adding more mystery and the condemnation upon America. Moreover, the conspiracy theories thrived showing enough information once again to prove how corrupt and what would be later to be proven as the “Lycan Conspiracy.”

There was enough DNA evidence to prove once and for all, the data, the remains, to include the additional findings far from the reach of the infested corrupt American Government. Russia had turned over additional DNA and archeological findings. The Brussels’ Human Genetics Medical Research Center proved once and for all that the history books would need to be re-written. Scientists concluded that there is a separate species and dubbed it, “Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy.”

The new data not only challenged the current scientific narrative as well as the major religions that there was always Homo-Sapiens-Lycanthrope walking among us. It is also made clear since, “Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy” is its own species of mankind, that there was no cure or gene therapy as in a cure to change a Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy or in the vernacular, werewolf into or back into a human. Most of the ancient stories, religions of old, and pre-history is proven right with the few exceptions to include;

The moon does not hold its sway over a shape-shifter which is a werewolf
Werewolves are not allergic to silver or a silver bullet lethal
Werewolves natural state for humans bitten are in their original human form.
Werewolves natural state for Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy is that of the Werewolf.
Religious artifacts of any kind to include New Age beliefs and icons do not
work to protect one from a possible attack or drive a Shape-Shifter off.
Human, Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens cannot get infected with the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy genome only through being bitten, body fluids, and through open wounds.
Once a human is infected by a Shape-Shifter there is no known “cure” or tradition to change back to just being a human.

During the chaotic times in this new age of discovery of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy, the Vatican came forth with the information only at the point of the smallest nation in the world would fall prey to the external forces as well as darker forces from within. As the death of the Vatican and thusly the Roman Catholic Church was imminent, the sacred records along with a sea of files, documents, computer data, pictures, and studies secretly conducted by the Vatican since 1910 had knowledge of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy and the fact that the Lycans was, at the time, alive, and the barbaric dogmatic testing conducted.

A violent end of the Vatican and its tens of centuries of misdeeds finally succumbed. From the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy genetics gave the scientists and the medical community all information world-wide. Humanity is not alone. The Homo-Sapiens-Lycanthrope detection and exposure processes were handed over to the U.N. as well as the various superpowers of China, Russia, and India were given for further weaponizing chemical and biological studies into such weapons that could be sprayed under the cover of Chemical Trails, public water, and all European Lycan Control Centers or the EULCC. The EULCC morphed into a newly formed borderless advanced military throughout Europe. The propaganda against Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in France and Germany fanned out to the far reaches of the world as the “Great Culling” of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy has begun.

Before all out war was declared upon the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy, many were brought into remote concentration camps in Poland, Lithuania, Holland, and Denmark. Norway would be the first to begin the death camps for the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in their final solution. However, the truth became public in Norway and this caused the very beginning of the “Pro-Lycan Movement,” and a growing threat to all those offering a final solution for the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy. In this tumultuous period of civil unrest revealed  a much darker creature webbed throughout humanity while during the “Great Culling” and power-grab that dwarfed Hitler and his Nazi Party. This creature is known as the vampire and resulting in two distinct groups later to be easily defined.

As history will reveal that the main driving force in such governments for the “Final Solution” or the “Great Culling” period was none other than the vampires and those under the vampires’ control. These facts revealed did little more than push those governments and the majority of people to swell the ranks of the “Pro-Lycan Movement.”

The humans now had the perfect war. In Russia the Lycans would proven entirely too numerous throughout the wilderness and the Siberian regions. The chemicals and biological agents didn’t work as promised and some speculated it was these chemicals and the biologicals that are responsible for the modern day vampire. Those that were captured alive found that the modern day vampire was not a third species of human but those infected with the K-17 Virus.

Again, some even postulated that the K-17 Variant was used in the processes of the leading biological weapons. Others claim that the United States is at fault for the FDA and the Atlanta Disease Control along with a long list were responsible in the covert operations conducted with the help of the CIA in getting the variant, the flawed variant into the bloodstream of the human species. In America, these K-17 variants proven ineffective on the Lycan. Those Humans who were ordinary Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens affected by the botched K-17 Virus definitely began effecting the general public. The K-17 Virus as history shows turned humans through a couple of three stages before become a modern-day vampire. The beginning of an effected were experience what is coined as the, “First Death.”

The First Death would be suffered only to those former humans that had direct exposure to include the United States Armed Forces, secret agencies, the CIA, and, well, a morbid spectrum in society. The First Death phase lasted the infected for three to five days. These bodies left alone without incineration, decapitation, and to include liquefaction processes would evolve quickly into all the symptoms of being the undead as in ghouls and zombies. Those in this second stage would be highly infected and this K-17 variant would be passed from the infected undead state to the victim only if the victim survived an attack. The third phase of the K-17 victims would then morph into what would be considered a normal human being. The modern day vampire would remain in this state until its final or “Second Death” by the same means of extermination as to the second phase. The modern day vampire proved that vampirism is very much alive as with those in control of the world banks, the Federal Reserve in America along with many members of Wall Street. It seems as if some horrifying payback of karma fell upon the beloved 1% of the world’s richest. This fact alone was one of the key ingredients of the redistribution of trillions upon trillions of untold riches. Some go as far as they could in helping out karma since she moves a might slow.

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Then came the RU-486 that would prove to be the mutually destructive in both effecting the Lycan and those either turned or bitten to a hideous death. In the newly discovered modern-day vampire would grow intolerant by sunlight driving them to the darkest lairs and ancient ruins throughout the world. Still, the Lycans were to be exterminated as the RU-486 would keep these shape-shifters from changing into their much stronger natural selves making the final solution easer in America as well as Europe in spite of the growing movement for the Lycans. As the movement grew into the “Pro-Lycan Party” or the PLP that became engulfed in Europe as well as Russia, China, and India. The public grew weary of the decimation of the Lycans. France, Germany, Norway, Italy, and England were forced to the Lycan Peace Processes beginning after the Monarchy of England were brought forth like in Medieval times to be executed because of their vampire conspiracies. It is also noted that the horrid truth is that the British Royal Family were vampires, vampires like the Rothschild Banking Cartel were all stemming from the ancient Germanic Vampire bloodlines. A grandiose public display of separating heads from spine of not only the British Monarchy, but heads of the parliament were also put to the business end of the Executioner’s axe. It would later be proven that several of the executioners were of Lycan and this information would be only a footnote in the annals of history.

England, Wales, Scotland, and the British owned Northern Ireland became awash in debt-free power, wealth, and the end of “British Want.” These facts of the largest transference of wealth to the public would go down as the greatest of mankind’s history would attest.

The PLP Accord was reached only after the Lycan War sacking Moscow, Western Russia, and the devastating defeat of the Communist Chinese. The PLP Accord would ban any termination, detention, capture of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy species. Furthermore, the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy were not allowed hunt down and kill humans. The charge of “Murder” for the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy only applied to their own since Humans, normal humans, murder is defined as one human killing within the same species. 

The power and wealth transference changed the faces of all governments to include China as well. This period was the beginning of the “Second Golden Age” of social, medical, and scientific realms. The persecution of the Lycans would stop and force all remaining governments, independent governments to the table of the United Nations with the PLP Accord. Moreover, due to the high numbers lost amongst the ranks of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy, many who survived would choose to separate themselves from their human counter-parts due to fears, hatred, and persecution though outlawed, were to continue along with the use of the RU-486 Virus slightly modified to use against the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy. Illegal and those found using the RU-486 would be executed by local and regional laws provided from the guidelines of the PLP Accord.

The RU-486 would continue and infect the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy species driving them to near extinction. In the United States, the Department of Homeland Security under the new mandates of the PLP Accord pushed hard against the U.N. Resolution was actively instrumental by secretly lobbying with other elements resulting in the introductions of these bills and acts to Congress.

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The actions and conspiracy of the Homeland Security proven true that the last of the vampire covens where among and protected by this wretched Department. Homeland Security would be finally dissolved and all those that were a part of this vampire deception were executed in Washington D.C.

As many would come to realize that the vampire covens had a stranglehold not only over the Central Banking Cartels, but well among all major branches of government. The newly formed Federal Bureau of Investigation or commonly known as the FBI lead investigation after investigation purging the various parasitical vampire infestation.  Due to the newly aligned FBI, proved the older regime of the US Government in all three major branches were formerly under the direct control of the vampires in what was labelled as the “Shadow Government.” The FBI would continue to find additional vampire covens controlling most of the major Cabals other than just the banking and all three branches of US Government but well nested in the CIA and Pentagon to say nothing about the Military Industrial Complex. All of federal along with state and local governments would be purged from the various vampire covens’ controls.

Chancellor of England, Lord Richard Simmons was quoted, “Though the United States thinks its still a superpower and that of an Empire seems to have to be forced to clean its own house before making such a boast.”

Lord Richard Simmons would shortly later be proven right. As history has shown that as far as America was the last to sign the PLP Accord was the leading nation of the vampire infestation stemming from the fascist banking cartels in 1913 through the beginning of the “Second Golden Age.” For America would indeed have to wait until the vampire covens would be exterminated. History would show the bloody extent of the vampires’ involvement in the most insidious acts against humanity from the Spanish-American War and later show as key players in the American Civil War. There seemed to be no end in sight as to the wickedness and the seduction of the American Public and those of its former ally nations.

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The American public broken of the parasitical government turned its focus in the eradication of these covens and the various cabals, corporations, and other organizations. As far as the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in America, many feared that they are either migrated out or died within the US Boarders. Nevertheless, the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy definitely faded into urban legends in the Eastern Regions of the United States to include the West. Some agencies in the American South claims that the last remnants of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy are in small pockets in the remote areas. Other agencies claim that several Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy “Packs” are very much alive and well. As to the truth of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in America is uncertain…

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Werewolves of Deadwood; The Legend of Connolly Pettimore

Blackened

Introduction and Shit Like That

Since the beginning of my works of, “Tales From Under the Concrete” that shatters the normalcy of compliance in the macabre and horror genre, the “Werewolves of Deadwood” has appeared as short stories. This includes segments and side stories that I love to do as it adds to the ambience of not only the tale itself but that of Deadwood itself.  Now on to the next thing I would like to bring to bare and that is the fact that DarcWorX and myself, Douglas S. Taylor are one of the same. With so much written and the energy that I put into this blog over the long haul, anyone who isn’t deaf, dumb, and blind should get more than enough proof in becoming exposed to my talents without excuse.

Yes, I know that I am not for everyone in the adult horror, thriller, suspense, dark fantasy to say nothing of the macabre genres I write – I can also assure with equal measure that everyone out here isn’t for me either. Having said this, I am who I am, I write in a unique sort of way, a style of my own, and an International fanbase that expects nothing less from me. Though, this fanbase is small, means everything to me to include my loyalties with each and everyone of them. Yes, I even regard most of these people as friends. Oh, dare I even say that (enters sarcasm). For those who are just becoming writers, authors who are entering the world of the Internet along with the social media I would like to welcome you and warn you. You shall find friends and fans who are anything of what they seem to be. They are anything but positive influences and most you shall find out are envious and are cruel shadowy reflections of humanity.

Be warned.

More importantly, you continue being yourself and constantly strive to perfect your gifts and talents. Rise above and beyond the shit-eating trolls, imposters of those called friends, fans, and critics. Critics, real critics will always point out the good with those things that needs work on through a constructive atmosphere – Thank them, take their comments and opinions in heart. With all else, fuck them, press on, and give no more thought to these posers.

With the advent of the Internet, the creation of Social Media via the web, everyone has a voice. I would concede that for most, they don’t need a voice and remaining silent would be the best choice they can make. Alas, the genie as it were, is out of the bottle.

Over time, I have been accused of many crimes against humanity as suggested by this particular article of a man who disguises himself as a woman and another pretending to be a human whose interests are into exploiting Asian underage girls.

Nevertheless, if you strive to be the best you can be, you will run into parasites like these. Put the dogs in the ditch with plenty of lime and bury these and move on. I have been accused of being a racist because of the dialogs of characters and what they have said in the course of a particular story. This is utterly shameful and a pathetic of poising the well and reputation of the author.

How fucking lame is that? 

How fucking ignorant is that?

I hear it all the time about others who are more well-known. “Oh they must be pedophiles because they write or create monsters like these…” Disturbing albeit. Nevertheless, horror based upon the cruel realities in this world. Still, these hypocrites say anything to bring another down so they, these spineless fucks would make them look brighter and better – It shows how lame, it shows you stunted fucking minds is what it does.

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I think there are some comments made on Amazon that I allowed to leave there about some pretty ignorant fucks who gave it their best shots. There are other comments that are good and reflect an accurate opinion. There are also some negative comments that has absolutely nothing to do with the particular book or story – What the fuck?

It is what it is…

I wanted to add this material and things said to set the stage with some of my own angst to share. I also have the need to share some sage advice to those beginning their literary journey in these realms I have made mention. Do not give into the hubris and the gut-shot howling of these lesser primates. Live your dream and perfect your endeavors.


Now let me move on with the second half of this article; “The Werewolves of Deadwood.”

I wrote in some detail a few years ago while I was still a slave to the W-2 indentured to the Game. I remember it was a terribly dark and dreary night in the month of November. Walking in the mist and patches of fog dressed head to toe in black I moved through the night unseen as my mind wondered. I will admit that my imagination became ablaze with visions of supernatural monsters like vampires, phantom specters, psychotic killers, the criminally insane on the prowl, and then like a bolt of lightening electrifying my spine, werewolves!

Yes, werewolves indeed. Right then in the absolute darkness, I could almost hear the howls of such beasts. I imagine that I was one or vicariously traveling within one following the further shore of Elk Creek hidden in the forest and brush line. I could almost feel its blazing red eyes gazing upon me as I walked alone. I remember smiling from ear to ear at the thought that I may be pray. Yes, the hunted as the werewolf hidden watched me with such contempt. Finding myself smiling even more where others may be frightening themselves with their own scary thoughts I walked on thinking about the imaginary creature that wanted the end of my life and the taste of my flesh and blood in his mouth.

I did not have the time or energy to divert to some self-induced fear. No, my mind now totally in flames of creativity. As I walked on this dreary lonely road, the world of, “The Werewolves of Deadwood” began its infancy socially secretive world. You know, the beginning of the particulars, some of the main characters came into mind, and with them, their names, where they were from, what they do in human form in Deadwood. I also thought or entertained the possibility of Deadwood having its own clan or tribe of werewolves.

Moreover as my mind burned with brilliant visions and a budding storyline, the walk home concluded as I found myself on my front porch. I was already home least physically but not mentally.

How in the hell could I be?

My mind was spinning up a new darker world. Already the world of Deadwood, my Deadwood I was creating and sharing through short stories such as the Whispering Pines Sanitarium, Blackstone Rising, and others were already in print. Yes, I was then at that time tying all these persons, places, and events though totally fiction into my world. The story of these werewolves would become part of it. With these werewolf clan would be a need of history behind them, events that happened in the past, cause and effects, ant-heroes, villains, and an age-old rival, the vampire coven. Moreover, a vampire coven unlike that of the baneful romantic glowing bullshit mythology of young teen vampires. Instead, a blood-thirsty parasitical group or coven who were akin to the idea of the destruction of the werewolf clan in some Underworld sort of way. No, I wanted to add to what I have created on my own. So, the vampire coven based upon an insurgence of a biker gang that recently moved into the area in reality and with it, a level of crime not seen since the late 19th century.

The biker gang would later be all rounded up by the DEA and FBI for the manufacturing and distribution of Crystal Meth in the Lawrence, Meade, and nearby counties. Yes, this would be something that I shall use in the story line. I had it. The vampire coven would take the place of the biker gang, but not only take the place, but to kill off the biker rat-bastards themselves. No love loss, and all overnight. This would be excellent. The Vampire coven needed a name, a leader, a few of their own meth cooks with their own brand of crimson meth. These vampires would also come to the knowledge of how to keep a shifter, (werewolf) from changing from human into their animalistic powerful supernatural selves.

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Oh, the fucking gears in my mind were grinding. First, I made mention of these things in some rendition of “Morbidity News” on here, on this blog a long time ago. Some people picked up on it and actually enjoyed the piece of fiction. However, most of those that lived in Deadwood, Lawrence County, and as far as Wyoming thought of it as some sort of fabrication, fake news being passed off as real news.

Now, how fucked up and simple-minded is that?

I then needed a dumb-like character that is a werewolf. In human form, eye-candy for the women. A tall and powerful man of the usual average intelligence from the back woods of Louisiana near the Mississippi boarder swamps. A man came to mind, his description of a dark skinned brown eyed and matching hair that is shoulder-lengthen tattooed fellow that goes by the name of Connolly Pettimore. Basically a good natured and fair man attached to a ruthless bitch for a mate also from the same region who came up here after a conflict of a clan in New Mexico. I shared a bit of history of Connolly and the troubles his mate got themselves into. I think I may even shared a measure of personal regret on his part for keeping her. Though, she blames every ill-deed on him. She is nothing less than a sociopath and quick to anger. Any other emotion is nothing but a conjuring effect on her part. Now enters the drama aspect.

As I said earlier, I wrote several very short stories of, “The Werewolves of Deadwood” that appears in the Tales Series. Nevertheless, I believe that this particular story needs to be its own novel in paperback and eBook formats.

As for Connolly and his henpecking, he will end the latter abruptly. A man can only stand so much insanity from a stunted mind. This woman, sure, she is based upon a sociopath I once had the most unfortunate time then in my most miserable life. I don’t care if man or woman, you all can see faces being painted across your mind’s eyes right about now – no doubt.

So, the story, the original piece was told through a character who is the owner of the Gallows Saloon in which was an actual place here in the historical Deadwood. I was offered an opportunity to visit this place by the late owners. Fascinating this adventure was and it was, at that time, all that I could imagine and then some. Now, some ex-FBI agent turned it into a pistol shooting range and bar – Yeah a fucking bar with drunks with loaded weapons.

How fucking stupid is that?

I couldn’t have made that shit up.

Again, the story, or the history is told by a werewolf in human form that describes John Joseph “Jack” Nicholson to a fucking “T.”

Character names withheld; the story starts with the introduction of the werewolf clan and how it fits into a dark history just before and during General Armstrong Custer’s infamous 7th Calvary’s 1st and 2nd Expedition into the Indian Reservation of the Black Hills from Fort Meade, South Dakota. Fort Meade is now a Veteran’s Hospital Facility east of Sturgis in Meade County – You never know, the question could come up in Jeopardy or something and this information may be priceless to you all.  

Yeah, the historical portion, a portion in a draft format is fascinating on its own merits though will be re-done from the ground up with a good many things in a novel format. The history speaks of actual events along with the accounts with the views of the speaker. This history laced with both facts, truths, and my license of fiction will certainly blur the lines much like the pseudo-history told as actual history in today’s classes of education, the Museum of Deadwood that has about as much truth as a few grains of Fool’s Gold.

Not to get a head of myself in the least. Connolly Pettimore hears through the elders of the Deadwood clan that resides up in Roubaix, South Dakota of the current treaties they have with the neighboring vampire coven not to mention, the manufacturing of the crystal meth operations. These facts, this alliance is something that Connolly can’t even conceive since the history of Vampire and Werewolf is more of a story of master and slave. Pettimore’s personal dealings in the south with the vampire covens there has proven only one thing of certainty; vampires cannot be trusted in the least.

For Connolly, he harbors only contempt and seething hatred since both of his parents were killed by the order of some elders of a vampire coven. Again, he would be faced with another deadly alliance in New Mexico that his woman helped greatly in exacerbating the tension placing the clan there in peril. Truce was only achieved by excommunicating Pettimore and his mate from the region. Yeah, there is far more to the story or I mean, more to it when I write it.

Nevertheless, Pettimore finds the secret location of the Vampire Coven’s Elders. He manages to ditch the warnings from his own elders and enters the secret grounds hidden in the ancient Roubaix Graveyard. There he waits in hiding for mid day. Then he executes his plan. In basic, a shallow but effective plan. He is to break in and being undetected by the surveillance system short-circuited by a huge solar flare he knew nothing about. Otherwise, he would have been out-numbered and killed by his own kind protecting the Elders. A betrayal made by a pact with his own elders and kept secret. He opens all the window protection mechanisms after quietly opening the caskets. The Elders turn to dust, screaming, flames, the whole bit.

Pettimore realizing that the guardians are coming upon him, he bolts out of the den of elders and blocking the only door behind him with some sort of old railroad tie. He watches the place burn and all those that die inside. This obviously includes his own species.

With this knowledge gained and the betrayal of his own Elders he goes to back into Deadwood where those there in power have a very hard time believing Pettimore. Proof is presented as a small band of werewolves investigate and report back. The coupe ensues with the demise of the treacherous werewolf Elders. This swift and bloody action raises issues with the Custer, South Dakota and Wyoming Clans. A Blood War is immanent as sacred laws seemed broken because of the deaths of the werewolf elders. This will have to wait as the more powerful covens of North Dakota, Montana, and Minnesota along with Nebraska demands retribution of the near total destruction of the meth-making, hence, money-making coven in Lawrence County.

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One thing is for certain, Connolly Pettimore may be a hero to some in the region, a hero to those immediately around him but has a death bounty on his head along with those who help conceal him from a twisted form of vampire justice and then, if he survives, he may have to face the wrath of his neighboring clans.

Well that about does it here for me with this subject. It would be considered kind indeed if you would let me know of your thoughts. I know I have exposed some intriguing plots within plots and a high-powered overall synopsis.

I will also say, don’t get any fancy ideas of using any of this matter and subject as your own. Though, you may kid yourself into thinking of taking this work as your own and that would be a fucking grave mistake since all this, everything is copyright protected to include all within.

This brings me to the finality, the conclusion of this article, this post on WordPress. Unlike many other bloggers that have posted some sort of Anti-Plagiarism banner. You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. This is proprietary work owned by DarcWorX. I have seen my work on other blogs. I have seen my stories and literary material on other blogs and stories. Yet, these same dullards say my work is poorly written as to discourage me. They take the entire story and the only thing that is changed is their name pinned to it.

These egregious actions do reveal themselves and those phony fucks pay dearly and more often than not, much more than they can afford.

For all those new talented writers, authors, and such. Protect your work. Learn what is, “Fair Use,” “Public Use,” “Non-Copyright” and “Stock Images.” I recommend the following, “Adobe Photo Libraries,” “ShutterShack,” and a vast array of online catalogs of additional images you can graft into your own, make it your own like any other business online and traditional magazines do.

Please make a safe and secure contribution via PayPal and thank you.
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DeathofaGod

Psychic Vampires; Are Energy Feeding Parasites!

Created by Douglas S. Taylor for DarcWorX

As of late, I have been plagued with the sudden onset of depression within my friends. One of my friends locally,  managed to tragically kill herself by literally succumbing to the elements and found dead in a vacant parking lot here in Lead, South Dakota. We all have heard that depression can drive a person to suicide. We also understand that when a person attempts or succeeds in taking their life that they are not in their right mind. This I know and you will just have to trust me.

However, have you looked into the situation of a dear friend’s depression?

I mean, if a person has a logical reason of being depressed such as a loss of a friend, a relation to including a family member, and even a pet – This is a normal empathetic response and welcome to the human condition. It has been with us for about 351 million generations. Life’s pressures, such as the state of our failing nation, dismal economy, and a tyrannical government are more than enough reasons to be depressed to a degree. Injustices of this world, world suffering on a level ever previously known is happening and this too is depressing enough.

There are also mental psychiatric chemical imbalances of the human brain, disorders such as being Bipolar of manically high, and or manically low. These things, however, unfortunate can be explained as well and the medical and psychiatric communities attempt to help. Then, of course, is chronic or clinical depression and this too is a psychiatric condition that affects the mind, spirit, and body affects the body.

There is a host of resources to investigate to offset these conditions such as dieting, exercising, and taking natural and prescription drugs that may actually work. As one who has a Bipolar Disorder, I know full well that a simple pill or a couple of pills will not change or fix or eliminate away my condition.

Let me talk more into the psychic realm, passed the obvious mental, emotional, and physical aspects as I discussed in the previous paragraphs while allowing me to propose something more, something that lurks in the recesses of your personal world around you.

Allow me to introduce to you the possibilities of such things or people who are nothing less than a term called, “Psychic Vampires.” Others may call these kinds of people by other names, “Spiritual Vampires,” “Emotional Vampires,” or some kind of “Damaging Mental Parasite.” I know that images, faces of people are already crossing your mind right now that are suspect to what I am saying, what I am warning you about.

Whatever name you call these kinds of people, the terms used in describing them, it doesn’t really matter as long as you know there is a psychic kinetic parasitical drain on your energy, your emotions, and thoughts that affect your judgment as well as your over outlook. I shall use the term, “Psychic Vampires” in my furtherance of this topic.

The Psychic Vampires is not some paranormal, or some sort of inhuman, immortal, or supernatural creature. These Psychic Vampires are in some aspects like the Bram Stoker variety. Here, let me break it all down to you right here, and right now; these Psychic Vampires are apathetic, selfish, one-sided, and parasitically toxic to you. They don’t care about your mental, emotional, and physical well-being in the least. Oh, they pretend to be your friend, but they all want one thing in common, your life’s energy, your Che, your aurora, and to some, your very soul.

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No matter the definition used, and like the supernatural fabled counterparts, a vampire is a taker who drains its victims.

I write this article from a far older article I once wrote back around the year, 2000 or so. I have updated it twice, and now with this latest update, a third time in order to help you with knowledge and some form of positive enlightenment.

As for my friend who passed away most suddenly, the official autopsy said that she died of exposure to the elements. I know, he meant, “the natural elements.” She was walking to work at the local library where some say that she was being constantly bullied by her supervisor. This has been a common complaint by all the former employees there in my experience since I moved into the area. Is her boss, a person that I know personally, a bully, an abusive person?

The odds and opinions outweigh any good said about this person in question. Is it possible that this “bully” is actually some demented form of a Psychic Vampire?

I think not since the energy to do harm on some offensive daily barrage is certainly not characteristic of a feeding Psychic Vampire. So, a bully or a typical bully cannot be a parasite. The bully’s own energy may attract these Psychic Vampires drawing the tainted energy of some kind of non-preferred resort to sustain themselves.

A Psychic Vampire doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anyone’s needs unless they have an opportunity to gather more energy. We must endeavor ourselves to recognize these kinds of people who are drawing energy from another person. Psychic Vampires are always on the lookout for a new opportunity. Only the strongest of these kinds of people will show charisma, outward energy, though limited in order to attract these new feeding sources, and these sources are you!

If these stronger Psychic Vampires fails, so does their attraction and strength. Again, like their supernatural counterparts, they grow weak, feeble, need to feed and grow sickly.

For the less strong and or more cautionary Psychic Vampires set up a situation of being invited into one’s own life agreeably on some level, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly. They are not made, these Psychic Vampires are born and grow predatorily. After all, they are parasitical as well as predatorily.

Knowledge, wisdom, and the recognition of these toxic entities only then can we understand the freedom when we stop projecting our apprehension of hopelessness against others blaming them and all the while victimizing ourselves further.

Concurrences to give or take, the “yen” and the “yang” does not need to be granted on a conscious individualized basis. It comes from an underlying attitude as well. If you give someone energy, a positive attitude on any level, this, in turn, is given back from the recipient. This is most noticed in growing healthy relationships between people. This exchange is usually immediate but not necessarily so. Depending on the damages done by the Psychic Vampire, it could take more positive energy, but be wary that you are not the one falling into a trap of being drained. Actions always speak so much louder than words ever could.

Give your friends and loved ones, positive energy, share in their successes, and be supportive. If you cannot do these things, then you are more likely than not, a Psychic Vampire yourself.

Our experiences in life all include give and take in varying degrees and mirror back to us where we are on the spectrum selfishness and selflessness. Selfishness and self-centeredness are generally viewed as undesirable traits. Selflessness is usually viewed positively, but is there a hidden agenda for a means to an end personally?

Then you are definitely a Psychic Vampire and a stronger one at that. Psychopathic tendencies abound with you no matter how good you think you can fake empathy, no matter how long you will last unnoticed by your prey. One thing is for certain, you’ll need to feed even if this means relocating because everyone who is normal and aware are on to you.

Like your supernatural counterparts, you will give into the need to feed and the thirst always wins out with no exception. This fact alone will cause your own intrinsic eradication of all that you have worked for. You have this misfortune of your coming.

Those who give selflessly without balance can become a feeding frenzy of energy and your personal resources. This includes financially too. There is nothing off the menu of a fucking Psychic Vampires. 

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Familiars;

There are those that these Psychic Vampires control through various means. These people are the Psychic Familiars. Familiars are nothing more than those who take without thought are often very kind people who have learned inappropriate ways to get your kinetic energy, goodwill, with very little to no reciprocating or real appreciation of your resources. These people are mostly unwitting pawns that will introduce to you through these means, their masters, the Psychic Vampires.

These Familiars may have been once a normal and genuine empathetic persons who actually cared for others around them. Then, through time, ever so subtle, they grow obviously selfish and thoughtless of others and expect others to do things for them without any measure of reward or returning favors or support in kind. A spirit of Apathy begins to set in as they are also being victimized by their masters. A diabolical control mechanism at this point between slave and master is assured. At this point, the Familiars are owned and the sad thing is, they don’t even fucking know it!

These are just a few examples of opposite ends of the spectrum.

Most of us sit somewhere closer to the middle and as with all living things our abilities and balance fluctuate by chemical, dietary, and environmental stresses.

One last thing on Familiars; they are the followers of the Psychic Vampire in a master-slave relationship that is nothing more than the extendable reach of these parasites. Once you recognize the Psychic Vampire and his or hers network of Familiars are more than high time to cut off your relationships with these people. Whether they realize it or not, they are a conduit of a vile toxic and caustic energy and resource drain upon you and eating you away.

Allow me to express this another way. The giver’s attitude of willingness creates an opening that enables a taker to connect to the giver. Connecting to each other, although generally unseen, literally creates a physical connection that we just do not see with the naked eye at first. Others become stronger relationships that grow beyond friendships. Besides, we are tribal people no matter how much you deny this discernable fact. We see all of this, everything that I have just explained throughout every social medium.

How To Stop Psychic Vampires;

If you suspect you are a giver simply because you can without expecting anything in return you must become clear that your actions are building you strong energy. Some, such as myself become beacons in an otherwise dark world.  You must also realize that both Familiars and their masters will be drawn by your brilliance, your center of energy that radiates. You can even, through knowledge and experience tell these fucking parasites and their friends to fuck off and to include severing any cords of connectivity, Though, this may be painful and leaves the Familiars confused as they probably will not realize that they have been played. This is the marks of their bewitchment and sudden shock in losing you as a friend or loved one. As for the Psychic Vampire, they care only for their survival, their concealment, and their escape plan if necessary.

Remember; Psychic Vampires Don’t Give a Fuck About You or Their Familiars.

You must cultivate a strong mental attitude of, “No one else can thieve my energy. My need to give is fulfilled through healthy means. My generosity and kindness my own and not affected by outside or environmental forces.”

Having done so, you will know an immediate boost in your energy, your health, and general outlook. Your personal world will become brighter, more optimistic, and in a growing passion of what you love to do.

You may see yourself of giving back to your immediate surroundings and community by giving of your time and energy. The energy spent, shall be returned to you in all things healthy and balanced. Take the necessary time to get quiet into the things you love and those that love you, such as your pets who suffered no less than you have done.

Take command of your life. If you see any unhealthy lines connecting you to another that are affecting you negatively, break that connection off and shove it right up their asses sideways. Visualize severing these negative ties in whatever ways that come to you.

Find people through natural means of communication, same interests that are healthy, and of good standing with their own tribal community. If they support you or you finding them supporting you in a positive manner, return in kind. Never let your ego get in the way – Instead, share your ego with others and enjoy the life you are always meant to have.

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